Enigma
by Tayggerung
Summary: PG-13 because this is SLASHY. MALE ON MALE! If you do not like it, don't read it. PART TWO UP (Another drabble, a bit longer than the last.)
1. Enigma: Ron

DICLAIMER: Not mine, they all belong to the Queen of Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling. I'm merely having a little fun. No profit was made, but I hope oyu have fun too! Review! And give me some ideas to fleshing it out. This is a tentative foray into slash.

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Enigma

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Sometimes, I wonder about myself. Late at night, staring up at the thick canopy of my four-post bed, I push my fingers through my fiery hair and think, _What the fuck am I doing?_ I think, _Mr. Weasley, do you MIND_, and force my thoughts away from white-blonde hair and luscious, sneering lips. I know for a FACT that we would never work but…

The other day, in the hall outside of Flitwick's classroom, he looked at me. The crowd backed me against the clammy stones of the wall, preventing me from moving in any direction. His gaze slashed across mine over a sea of heads before turning back to meet my eyes full on, burning forcibly into my brain.

He's gotten taller, leaner, meaner. He's got the attitude of a skinned cat and a family not yet pulled from You-Know-Who's grasp. Fuck, he could even get my right leg on a platter, and I still crave him.

Draco's eyes clawed into my head, and I knew. I knew he wanted to be the one pressing me to the wall, gripping my hair and pulling savagely backwards to expose my throat to his teeth. I knew he wanted to be the one with a hand under my robes, melding my mouth to his own as our hips move together. He would breath, "Ron…" and that single word would break me. Crack my chest open for all the world to see and spill my guts in my friend's faces.

Across a sea of heads… and then he turns, and I am left alone.

-fin-

Told you it was short. Ideas? Anyone?


	2. Enigma: Ron

Right, this is posted with no betaing and all that, but I'm willing to make changes if ya'll point them out.

WARNING: This story is considered adult because of the references to masturbation, the F-bomb, and derogatory terms towards homosexuals. If you don't like, at least be nice in your review. If you think I went overboard and have ideas of how to change it, then tell me that instead of yelling at me and reporting me to the admins. Thank you!

DICLAIMER: Not mine, they all belong to the Queen of Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling. I'm merely having a little fun. No profit was made, but I hope you have fun too! Review! And give me some ideas to fleshing it out. This is a tentative foray into slash.

**_Enigma  
Drabble 2_**

Harry knew.

Still, it wasn't really Ron's fault. Gryffindor tower didn't exactly have any nice private places where you could go and have a good wank. It was either the loo (Which was bloody freezing at all times), or the shared bedroom with the curtains drawn on your bed, hoping no one would come up to check on their robes or something.

There were guidelines to follow, though. If you happened to wander into a room and see someone with their trousers down around their ankles and knickers gaping, moaning "Cho!" or "Fleur!" or "Cedric!" then you wandered right back out again. Even if you'd caught them at the breaking point, where eyes roll back and muscles tense so hard they cramp. Even if you have to go find a secluded corner afterwards and relieve some of your own tension, you just didn't talk about it. No one sauntered up to you in the hall the next day and went, "Oi, caught you at your pocket pool last night! Fucking-A, eh, mate?" When you saw them again, you acted as if nothing had happened. But Harry broke every single rule the Gryffindor boys had about wanking.

When Ron hisses, "Draco," the word pushing out between his teeth before he has a chance to swallow the little bastard back down, Harry freezes in front of the door that he'd opened just a few seconds ago. Ron's arm tenses and relaxes one last time before he sighs and slumps back down, opening his eyes lazily.

"Draco!"

Ron jumps, letting out a small squeak.

"You… what?" Ron says, the blissful lassitude he gets after a good come dissipating much faster than he'd like.

"Fucking Draco?"

Then Ron gets it.

"You heard me?" _fuckfuckfuckFUCK_

"You stupid faggot, how could you?"

"Bloody hell, Harry! It's not what it seems, I swear!" But what a stupid thing to say, of course it was what it seemed.

Ron lurches to his feet, tucking himself frantically back into his trousers, almost running his sticky hand through his hair before remembering at the last second.

Harry's eyes pin him to some huge, invisible specimen card, the label, "TRAITOR" glaring beside him.

"You shouting 'Draco' when you get off is not what it looks like? That's fucking rich." And he leaves, slamming the door loudly in the echoing silence left by his words.

Hermione will know within the hour. Perhaps not the details, but she'll know.

Bugger it all, what a day. In fact, Ron can only hope the news doesn't reach Draco. Fucking rich, indeed.

fin-

Yep. Open for ideas, here...


End file.
